Chapter 14
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 014
Chapter Title: Reconstruction (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Beyond the castle walls.
Along the banks of the Sazawa River that wound through Sternberg territory.
This spot, where the women usually did their laundry and dumped their waste, now resembled a massive construction site.
Men hauled logs, women carried dirt and stones, and even the children pitched in by gathering small pebbles.
At the center of the bustling worksite stood a bizarre structure, its skeleton still taking shape.
It dwarfed any ordinary hearth or kiln, with a bulging belly like a giant jar.
In the middle of the site, carpenter Jakub bellowed orders as he erected the massive framework.
"There, it's not level! Pull the ropes tighter!"
"Hard at work, I see, Jakub."
"Ah, my lord!"
Spotting me, Jakub wiped the sweat from his brow and hurried over. Exhaustion lined his face, but his eyes sparkled with vigor.
"You've arrived. As you can see, the foundation framework is nearly complete."
"Good work. Faster than I expected. No shortages on materials?"
"We're managing for now. But... to support something this enormous, we'll need far more thick, sturdy timber and stone. What we have won't cut it."
I nodded.
The blast furnace rising before us towered over half the height of the castle walls. For such a behemoth to contain molten metal, its foundation had to be perfect.
"You'll have all the manpower and materials you need. Focus solely on finishing the blast furnace—nothing else."
"Understood, my lord! Just leave it to us!"
I clapped Jakub on the back and headed next to potter Pavel's workstation.
Near Pavel's area, stacks of pristine white bricks towered like mountains.
"Pavel, have you fired enough bricks?"
"Yes, my lord. Just as you instructed, we baked them at much higher temperatures than usual clay, yet not a single one cracked. They're hard as rocks—tap them, and they ring like metal."
Kaolin firebricks. Without them, the blast furnace would have melted itself before it could melt any ore.
"Truly remarkable clay. It's like a blacksmith forging steel, not just baking dirt. My lord, where on earth did you learn such knowledge?"
Curiosity gleamed in Pavel's eyes. I gave a faint smile instead of answering. Wisely, he didn't press further.
This unknown expertise was a powerful tool for bolstering my authority—as long as it didn't brand me a heretic.
Just then, blacksmith Tomasi approached with a grim expression.
Shadows clouded his face.
"My lord, a word."
"What is it? Did the coke work?"
"The coke... it was incredible. Burned far hotter and longer than charcoal. But... the bellows are still the issue."
Tomasi was referring not to the full-scale blast furnace Jakub was framing, but the small experimental one we'd jury-rigged.
"To hold the temperatures you want, we need constant airflow without a break. No human power can manage that. It's impossible with manpower alone."
"Hmm..."
Even with three bellows linked to that tiny furnace mouth, six men had collapsed from exhaustion before we hit the target heat.
Just as I expected. We've hit the predictable bottleneck.
What I aimed to build wasn't a modern industrial giant, but something with comparable output.
This era's hand-operated bellows had clear limits. Relying on human muscle alone couldn't produce sustained, powerful blasts indefinitely.
"We'll have to build a waterwheel after all."
"A waterwheel, my lord?"
Tomasi immediately looked troubled.
"Begging your pardon, but that's no easy task. The Sazawa River crossing our lands is narrow and slow-flowing. If it were the mighty Vltava through Prague, maybe—but this stream? No chance of powering a waterwheel. A small mill wheel, perhaps..."
Tomasi had a point. The river flowing past Sternberg was little more than a brook.
Fine for laundry or fetching water, but its flow was woefully insufficient for a waterwheel.
"You're right. Relying solely on the current won't work. Everyone, gather round."
I summoned the meisters and unrolled a parchment on a flat rock by the riverbank.
The three craftsmen held their breath, eyes fixed on my hand. Expectation lit their faces—what miracle would I draw next?
With charcoal, I sketched a massive wheel on the parchment. But it wasn't submerged in the river. Instead, a long aqueduct stretched above it, feeding water onto the top.
"What is this, my lord?"
"We'll dam the river upstream, channel an aqueduct to the waterwheel, and drop the water from above onto the wheel."
"From above the wheel?"
"Exactly. Which is stronger: a weak current pushing the wheel, or dozens of buckets' worth of water crashing down from on high?"
In that instant, Jakub's eyes widened. As a carpenter, he grasped the principle first.
"It's not the flow—it's the weight of the water! That's why you picked this riverbank spot from the start. We thought it was just convenient for water access..."
I smirked.
"Not done yet. The bellows are the same issue. Air only on the push wastes half the power."
Next, on the other side of the parchment, I drew a strange device: two boxes side by side, linked by a central axle.
"Look at this. Connect the axle in the middle—pushing the paddle draws air from one box, pulling from the other. I'll call it the 'double-acting bellows.'"
As my explanation ended, a stifled groan escaped Tomasi. As a blacksmith, he knew better than anyone that fire's heat hinged on airflow.
Constant, unrelenting blasts. If achieved, we might truly melt iron like water.
"If we build it to these specs... we might actually melt metal like butter, my lord!"
I placed a hand on Tomasi's shoulder.
"Not 'might.' We will."
"Oh...!"
Excitement flushed the meisters' faces as they pored over the blueprint, heads together.
"This part goes like..."
"No, the axle angle..."
They dove into heated debate.
The worksite, momentarily sluggish, buzzed with fervor once more. Completion of the blast furnace felt imminent.
Watching the meisters dash off blueprint in hand, I gazed up at the furnace frame again.
This is just the beginning. Once we have steel, next up...
Blueprints for the following phase already filled my mind.
Not common weapons or armor. Something to revolutionize this land's productivity itself—the dawn of massive change.
Then, Janos approached cautiously.
"My lord, are we really sure about this?"
"What's the problem now?"
"Obviously, that new toy of yours!"
Janos pointed at the sweating laborers and the nascent blast furnace frame.
"The Hussites who survived the last battle will have reported every detail to their main force. How their comrades burned alive, how their precious wagenburg turned to ash! And we're just playing in the dirt like this is fine?"
"Playing in the dirt? This is humanity's great technological leap."
"Before that 'leap' finishes, the Hussites will hang us first!"
Anxiety laced his voice.
"They're surely sharpening their blades for revenge... Shouldn't we make more firebombs, raise the walls higher, or at least sharpen the soldiers' spearheads again?"
"Hmm..."
His concerns were utterly reasonable. I didn't expect the Hussites to slink away so easily.
An army led by the legendary Jan Zizka wouldn't swallow defeat at some backwater castle like this.
A second punitive force, far larger than the last, was likely forming even now.
I patted Janos's shoulder lightly.
"You're right. The Hussites will come again. In greater numbers, better prepared."
"You know that, yet you're so calm!"
Frustrated, Janos thumped his chest.
"Quiet down. Everyone's staring. You're making them nervous."
"..."
At my words, Janos clamped his mouth shut. Sure enough, the hardworking villagers had all perked up their ears toward us.
Of course they're anxious, even if they don't say it. One win doesn't guarantee the next.
I led Janos away from the noisy site to a quiet stretch of riverbank. Staring at the gentle flow, I spoke softly.
"Janos, what's the greatest victory in war?"
"Uh... winning in one battle? Like we did last time."
"Wrong."
I shook my head firmly.
"Not winning a hundred battles out of a hundred. The best victory is winning without fighting."
"Winning without fighting? That's pie in the sky."
Janos scoffed. I chuckled and continued calmly.
"Not at all. I've already sent a letter."
"A letter? Another request for aid from Emperor Sigismund? He'll toss us pocket change again."
"No."
I turned from the river to meet Janos's eyes squarely.
"This time, I sent one to the Hussites."
"...What?"
Janos's eyes bulged, as if I'd said the most absurd thing imaginable.
"You wrote to those lightning-struck cowards who fled? What, did you say, 'I went too far, let's call it even and be friends' or something?"
"Of course not."
Savoring his flustered reaction, I drawled on.
"Janos, you see the Hussites as one big army, but they're not. They're like a two-headed snake."
"Two heads?"
"One head: the radical Taborites, seizing church wealth and toppling nobles. The other: moderate Prague nobles, keeping the old order but seeking independence from king and pope."
Tales from Zdenek in that dingy pub, fragments of history from my modern life—they coalesced into a clear picture.
Historically, no external foe crushed the Hussites. Internal schisms did them in.
"They hold together by the thinnest thread of 'God's army,' but they have a fatal flaw: no unifying center."
"Isn't there one? One-Eye Jan Zizka. Just his name had soldiers pissing themselves."
"Zizka's a genius commander. But not a leader. Fighting well doesn't win universal support. He can't become Bohemia’s king, after all."
I gave a small laugh.
"They're a powder keg waiting to blow. Moderates want the kingdom; radicals want heaven. Different dreams. Toss an irresistible spark into that fuse—what happens? They explode on each other before they ever turn on us."
"Really? Possible?"
"Very."
I whispered with a faint smile.
"I made them an offer they can't refuse."